


Proper

by celticmuse



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse
Summary: Christmas Eve on the Enterprise and cultural assumptions cause a rift between Spock and Christine Chapel
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Spock paused for a moment to center himself before entering the Officer's Mess. His hands involuntarily clenched into tight fists, as he focused on steeling his mental shields against the barrage of tangled human thoughts and emotions he would soon encounter. He once again began to question the logic of his uncharacteristic decision to participate in the elaborate terran holiday celebration.

_"Kroykah,_ " the Vulcan word escaped his lips marshalling his anxious thoughts. Mending fences. He now had a frame of reference for the archaic colloquialism McCoy had often used. His abrupt resignation from Starfleet and subsequent departure to Gol to pursue the Kohlinar had caused, what was the term Jim had used? Ah yes, hard feelings among his former crewmates. His actions had created a distance between them- a distance that his human self realized must be addressed and broached. 

His meditations in the months after his encounter with V'ger had led him to the conclusion that his quest to purge himself of his human nature had been in error. He was both Vulcan and human, and to deny either side of himself was illogical and not in keeping with the spirit of IDIC. He had mistakenly seen the diversity of his dual nature as a weakness; he now understood that both halves of his nature had value. His path would lie in finding the balance. Until he was able to make peace between the Vulcan and human struggling within him he would not be truly whole. 

This simple feeling. To be Vulcan did not mean to deny emotion, but rather to temper emotion with logic. To recognize and accept emotion was not the same as being ruled by emotion. It was logical to begin rebuilding the intellectual and emotional connections between himself and his friends. He hoped that they would see his presence tonight as a genuine reaching out to them, an act of contrition for the manner in which he had so thoughtlessly tried to expunge them from his life. 

Taking a final centering breath he stepped into range of the door sensor and it swooshed open. It was, as he had anticipated, a typical human festival of excess. At one end of the hall garishly bright multispectral lights pulsed in time to a type of music with which he was thankfully unfamiliar while couples moved suggestively against one another with energetic abandon. The rest of the room was adorned with vast array of glittery stars and snowflakes, against a backdrop of artificial greenery. An almost overwhelming miasma of roasted animal flesh, alcohol and a tangled mixture of human body scents overlaid the normal smell of the stale recycled ship's atmosphere. 

Scanning the room he felt a rush of relief to find Jim and several of the bridge crew members at a table away from the dance floor. Making his way across the hall, he ignored the puzzled stares of those unused to his presence at the ship's social functions, responding to their greetings with a gentle nod. 

Any doubts he'd had about this evening vanished as he saw the startled, yet obviously pleased look on Jim's face. "I'm glad you could make it, Spock." 

"It was not difficult,” Spock responded feeling a bit puzzled. "The turbo lift is both direct and efficient." 

Kirk responded with a hearty laugh. "I didn't mean— oh never mind. I’m happy that you chose to join us.” Jim rose and wrapped his arm around Spock's shoulder as he guided him to a chair at the table. 

"Look who Santa dragged in," Kirk announced. 

Spock was about to protest Jim's statement, when he realized that his friend was making a joke. This need among humans, to turn nearly every situation into an opportunity for humor was both puzzling and at times annoying. Infinite diversity he reminded himself, practice acceptance not judgment. Humans, he'd come to understand, often used humor to mask discomfort or anxiety. It appeared Jim had not felt confident that Spock would come to the party as he'd said he would. There was still that subtle level of mistrust, he realized. Mending fences.

"Mister Spock," Uhura said, pleasure obvious in her eyes. "What a wonderful surprise!" 

She was followed by the others, Scott, Sulu, Chekov, Rand, DeSalle, all of whom seemed genuinely pleased that he had chosen to join them. 

Chekov, smiling proudly, offered him a glass of the apparently rare Russian vodka he'd received from Sulu. Spock managed to stifle the impulse to respond that the consumption of alcohol was illogical, and was rewarded with another beaming smile as he graciously accepted the proffered glass and took a sip. 

Fascinating, he mused as he looked around the table, the smallest gestures mean so much to them. But, he realized, there were two people missing from the table. 

"Doctor McCoy and Doctor Chapel, they are not attending the party?" Spock asked. 

"Bones got delayed with a patient, he'll be down in a few minutes. Chapel, your guess is as good as mine. She spends so much time holed up in the lab she may not even know it's Christmas." 

"The lab," Spock said. "That would explain why I have not seen her since I was released from Sickbay." 

"You were looking?" Kirk asked with a broad grin. 

Spock wasn't certain how to answer that question. Christine's feelings for him had been fodder for the Enterprise rumor mill on their first mission. It had caused her emotional distress and him an illogical amount of discomfort that he had only recently begun to address in his meditations. He had read through the remarkable body of work she'd had published after leaving the Enterprise and entering the accelerated Medical program at Starfleet. As the ship's Science Officer, he had, of course, been aware of her background in bioresearch prior to her service on the Enterprise. Still, it appeared he had not fully recognized what a brilliant and insightful mind Christine possessed. 

He has been looking forward to a chance to speak with her, to discuss her work, and the possibilities of working together on a number of projects. He had sought her out several times in his off duty hours without success. He'd sent her several comms suggesting a shared meal or a game of chess in the recreation room, which garnered only a brief missive citing a burdensome busyness on her part and a resulting necessity to decline his invitation. 

"I'm going to take that as a yes." Kirk leaned forward. "Anything you want to tell me?" 

Spock felt the involuntary upward quirk of his left eyebrow. "Nothing not already noted in the daily report, sir." 

Kirk sighed. "Chapel, Spock, Chapel. Why have you been looking for Christine Chapel?" 

"I have recently found myself quite stimulated by her monographs." 

Kirk choked, spraying a mouthful of obscenely expensive Saurian Brandy across the table. 

"Sir?" Uhura asked as she reached out and touched Kirk's forearm. "Are you all right?" 

Kirk nodded yes, although he still appeared to be struggling to catch his breath. 

"Do you require assistance, Jim?" Spock asked. 

"No-fine-"He coughed again then cleared his throat. "Her 'monographs'?" "They are most impressive." 

"I'm sure they are, Spock," Kirk said with a gentle laugh. 

Spock was uncertain as to what his friend had found so amusing and suppressed the desire to indulge his curiosity. He took another sip of Chekov's vodka and felt a sudden wave of peace. The fences would, indeed, be mended, he would rebuild his relationships here on the Enterprise, and in time he would regain Jim's trust. 


	2. Chapter 2

James Kirk felt a happy glow as he regarded his crewmates gathered around the table. Home, he was home, the place he was born to be. All was right with his universe. It was hard to believe that only two years ago he'd been lost, floundering. Bones had retired and opened a small private practice in the backwoods of Georgia. Spock resigned his commission and returned to Vulcan to pursue the Kohlinar, the ritual purging of all emotion, without so much as a word of parting.

With his two closest friends gone, and his ship confined to Spacedock for refitting, Kirk had, for the first time in years, felt uncertain about the path of his life. He never should have accepted the promotion to Admiral. He was born to command a starship, not a desk. Nothing had been able to salve the aching loss of his ship and crew. He'd tried in vain to fill the emptiness in his soul. Lori, the failure of their marriage and her senseless death still haunted him. 

But he couldn't dwell on the past. Miraculously he'd gotten his life back. His ship, his crew, Bones, and Spock—he and Spock were making real progress rebuilding the bonds of friendship and trust that had made them such a great command team. Though he was ashamed to admit it, he'd had a hard time letting go of the anger and resentment he had toward Spock. How could he have seen so little value in their friendship that he'd been willing to simply wipe those feelings away as if they meant nothing? He understood now that had not been the case. Spock had been wrestling his own, uniquely Vulcan demons. 

"Chris! Over here!" 

Kirk was roused from his musing as Uhura stood and waved her arms. He turned to see Chapel waving back as she moved across the hall to join them. Even after nearly three months, he was still caught off guard seeing Christine Chapel. The starry eyed, gangly young nurse with her heart on her sleeve had blossomed into a confident, and strikingly beautiful, woman. As she drew closer, he noted that she appeared somewhat rumpled and, based on the annoyed frown on her face was not particularly feeling the holiday spirit. 

"What happened to you?" Nyota asked as she rose and embraced Christine. "Just stay away from the punchbowl," she responded with a roll of her eyes. "Not only has Kevin Riley spiked the punch again this year, but he's put mistletoe up overhead as well, and is manhandling every single woman who walks by." 

Kirk watched Christine as she made her way around the table, chatting and handing out small packages to her friends. It was unfortunate that Spock's new emotional openness had not extended itself to her. Perhaps it was just the romantic in him, but a part of him had always thought that at some point Spock would come to appreciate what Christine had to offer. 

"Jim." The uncharacteristic insistence in Spock's tone made Kirk realized that he'd been speaking to him for several minutes. 

"Sorry, Spock," Kirk responded, "I guess I got a little caught up in Chapel's 'monographs.'" Spock's painfully puzzled stare and raised eyebrow made Kirk instantly regret his attempt at levity. "What did you want?" 

"Can you explain the significance of mistletoe? How does this mistletoe give leave to Mr. Riley to 'manhandle' the single women? It does not seem proper. Is there not some regulations against such a substance?" 

"It's an ancient Terran Christmas custom, Spock. When a couple stands underneath the mistletoe they are expected to kiss one another. It's considered…romantic. Men and women often make a game of maneuvering someone special under the mistletoe to get a kiss." 

"Romantic? Kissing many partners, in public, it sounds rather vulgar." 

"It's just harmless fun, Spock. Now, if Riley starts singing I'm calling Security." 

"I believe that there are certain of your human customs and practices that I will simply never understand." 

"Where's that crotchety old boss of yours?" Kirk asked as Christine came back around to their side of the table. "He was supposed to be here half an hour ago." 

"He'll be down in a few minutes. I called in every favor I had at Fleet and got a vidconn set up for him and Joanna." 

"What a wonderful gift. Maybe a holiday chat with his daughter and grandkids will put some holiday spirit into the old grump. Have seat Christine." 

"Thanks, but I really didn't intend to stay. I've got several experiments set up in the lab." 

"It's Christmas Eve, Doctor, do I need to make it an order?" 

"No, sir," Chapel said and took the chair next to Spock. "I can stay for a little while." 

To Kirk's surprise Christine placed a small package wrapped in shiny silver paper on the table in front of Spock. "I'm glad you're here, Mister Spock. I was going to take this by your office later." 

Spock raised a wary eyebrow at the package in front of him, and then looked to Kirk, his discomfort palpable. 

"I know that Vulcans don't celebrate Christmas—but, well I thought this would be something you would appreciate." 

"Come on Spock, open it," Uhura said. 

Hesitantly he picked up the small package and meticulously opened each of the fastenings. Kirk watched as Spock removed what appeared to be some sort of crudely woven black material. 

"It was a first effort," Christine said with a soft laugh. "I had no idea knitting a pair of socks would be so complicated." 

"I cannot-" Spock stood abruptly and dropped the socks onto the table, his expression grim. "Such a gift…it is not proper." 

"Improper?" Nyota asked, then shifted her gaze to Christine. 

"For a woman to make such a personal gift to a man who is not hers? It is most improper…I cannot accept this." 

"Spock." Jim said his eyes darting between Spock and the now bright red face of Christine Chapel. "I'm sure—"

"It is not proper for a female to make such a gesture, it is most… unseemly!" Spock said. "It dishonors the woman to do so, and it dishonors the man who allows her to bring such dishonor upon herself." 

The excruciating silence was broken by the sound of muffled laughter nearby. Kirk watched as Christine turned and made eye contact with the group of nurses at the next table. 

"Captain," Christine said nodding crisply, and then nodded to the rest of the officers around the table. "Happy Holidays, enjoy your evening," she added as she left." 

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" Uhura asked Spock as she rose from her chair. 

"You do not understand. Such an overture toward other than a mate is… shameful. It is the act of … of a…harlot." 

"Socks, Spock?" Kirk shook his head. "The harlots on Vulcan give socks? My aunt Clem used to give George and me socks every Christmas-and she was eighty five years old." 

"I don't care," Uhura said moving toward Spock. "In case you haven't noticed we're not on Vulcan! Where is the damn logic in humiliating her like that? And in front of Ames and Blaylock- it will be all over the ship by gamma shift." 

"As I live and breathe, a Vulcan at a Christmas party," McCoy said with a chuckle as he walked up behind Uhura and set a plate of food down on the table. But his broad smile quickly faded as the saw the faces of his friends around the table. "What's wrong, y’all look like someone died." 

"Worse, apparently. Chapel gave Mister Spock a pair of socks." Kirk responded. "The famous socks?" 

"Famous socks?" Kirk asked. 

McCoy picked up the socks and grinned broadly. "These babies are going to be on the cover of the next Starfleet Quarterly. They're made out of a special heat synergizing fiber that Christine developed by cross-pollinating the Vulcan t'raval plant with a Terran Night blooming Icharus plant and a Denebian orchid.. She came up with a process to extract a fine thread from the filaments. It's the dangdest thing, when she knit it into fabric it was able to maintain the wearer's ambient body temperature at down to sixty degrees below zero for forty-eight hours." 

"Sixty below zero Bones? That's amazing." 

"And it's light as a feather. Fleet's going to incorporate it in all of our emergency gear by the end of next year." 

"A discovery like that must be worth a fortune?" 

"Well you know Christine, Jim, she could care less about the money. She's set up a foundation to channel all of the profits into building a new pediatric medical center in San Francisco. You know, I kind of lobbied for her to give those to me, but she wanted the old green Grinch here to have them because they keep the ship so much cooler since the refit. Guess she was afraid he'd catch cold or something." 

"If you will excuse me?" Spock said as he snatched the socks from McCoy's hand. "I believe that there is a fence that is in need of mending."


	3. Chapter 3

Christine stormed across the dance floor making a direct line for the bar.

"What's your pleasure, Doctor?" Christine recognized the young man tending the bar as one of the new food service techs they'd picked up at Starbase Ten. 

"A fully charged phaser set on kill." 

The young man responded with a perplexed stare. 

"Sorry, I'll have a Deltan Cruisio, neat." 

The young ensign smiled as he set the glass of garnet colored liqueur down in front of her. 

"And you, sir?" Christine turned and was startled to see Spock standing behind her. "Is there anything I can get for you?" 

"Do you have good manners back there?" Christine asked, setting the now empty glass back down on to the bar with a decisive thump. "If so get him a double and put it on my tab."

"I am not presently in need of refreshment, ensign, thank you." 

Christine closed her eyes for a moment in anticipation of the pleasant rush of the potent drink. But the bliss of the Deltan serenity potion was short lived as she opened her eyes to find Spock's gaze upon her. 

"I…" he began tentatively. 

"Yes you-you, it's always about you isn't it, Mister Spock?" She tapped her glass on the bar signaling for a refill. 

"I didn't know what I should do with this?" He held out the black socks, scraps of silvery paper still clinging to them. 

She downed the second drink then snatched them away from him. 

"Were I not loathe to spend Christmas in the brig, I'd tell you exactly what you could do with them." 

Christine slowly rotated the small crystal goblet, watching in fascination as it reflected the sparkling lights. She briefly considered a third drink, but was beginning to doubt that there was enough liquor on the entire ship to grant her anything close to the serenity she was seeking. 

"Another?" the bartender asked as she set the glass down. 

"Thanks, but I've got work waiting for me in the lab." 

"Merry Christmas, Doctor Chapel." 

"Thanks, you too--hey, do you have feet?" 

"Last time I looked," he answered with a laugh. 

"Merry Christmas," she said and tossed him the socks. She turned to find Spock still standing behind her. "And just to be clear, I simply want him to have the socks. I'm not planning to have sex with him." 

"Doctor…Christine, you are not giving me a chance—"

"A chance?" she said laughing bitterly "A chance at what, Mr. Spock? A chance to humiliate me in front of half the crew? A chance to make me feel like a lovesick fool again?" 

"You don't understand—"

"I don't understand? Me? I'm the one who doesn't understand? Oh, believe me I understand plenty. God knows it took me five years but I finally see you for what you really are. And you know what I see? A cold, self-centered, heartless jerk." 

Before she could continue Christine's attention was drawn to the small knot of giggling young women. She was not in the least surprised to find Nurses Andrews and Blaylock at the center of the group. They appeared to be laughing at something on the ceiling of the recreation room. She followed their gaze and was horrified to discover the source of their amusement. 

"Mistletoe, damn Riley." 

"Mistletoe?" 

"It's a human cultural thing. Trust me, you really don't want to know." 

"The cultural things, they can be difficult to overcome. They become so ingrained within us that we no longer see the ways in which they shape our view. My reaction to your gift was-"

"Asinine, boorish--"

"I was going to say regrettable." "Ill mannered, rude, jackassardly—"

"I do not believe 'jackassardly' is an actual word." 

"For the love of heaven, you stupid jerk, it was a damn pair of socks." 

"I know that, Christine. Won't you please give me a chance to explain?" 

"Fine, explain." 

"In the earliest times of my people—before the time of Surak—"

"Okay, I've got projects in the labs that need tending, so the operative phrase here is 'short version.'"

"Among my people, the giving of a gift of food or clothing, particularly handmade clothing, is considered a sign of a certain intimacy, an intimacy that would be part of a bonded relationship between those who are mated. For a woman to be as a mate to a male who is not hers, it is considered most improper." 

"Yeah, I pretty much got that whole I'm the sock whore of the Enterprise thing." 

"I could not bear to think of you being dishonored in such a way at my expense. The very thought of you being diminished in such a manner made me realize the depths of my admiration and respect for you and your accomplishments. I realize now that my reaction was based on Vulcan culture and tradition. You, however, are not Vulcan and I was in error to judge your action in that context. I hold you in the very highest esteem Christine, above all others, above…above my own self." 

A look crossed his face and his raised eyebrow clearly showed a mixture of surprise and amazement. Christine studied him closely. There was an openness, a vulnerability in his expression that she'd not thought possible. 

"I have come to realize that, if I am to achieve balance within my nature, I will need to become more aware of human cultural assumptions, and my own ingrained Vulcan cultural assumptions. Perhaps you might find it in keeping with the spirit of this holiday to grant me your forgiveness?" 

"You're right. The cultural differences can be problematic, even among humans. My gift…it was not intended to impose upon your tradition. Maybe we could both forgive each other?" 

"A most agreeable solution." 

"Thanks, I'd better get going I’m juggling four experiments in three labs." She was just turning to leave when he took hold of her upper arms and pulled her close. 

"Since I have shared an aspect of my culture with you, would it not be proper for you to reciprocate by helping me understand one of your traditional holiday customs?" 

"Sure, what did you want to know?" 

"The mistletoe, as I understand it is a poisonous plant, yet it is given great importance in the celebration of this holiday. Jim attempted to explain it to me but I was still not able to understand it. Can you explain that significance?" 

"I’ll try. It's sort of romantic folklore and everyone seems to have a different story of how the tradition was started. Basically, a couple caught under the mistletoe was expected to kiss. It's really a silly custom. I'm sure Vulcans would find it most illogical." 

"Perhaps—if you were to demonstrate, it might be easier for me to understand?" 

"Demonstrate? You want me to kiss you, right here in front of everyone?" 

"We are directly under the mistletoe, Christine. Speaking strictly from a scientific perspective, would this not be the optimal test condition?" 

"Optimal test condition? Okay, fine," she replied. She leaned toward him planting a dry peck on his right cheek. Embarrassed by the attention they were garnering, she attempted to move away from him, but his grasp on her arms tightened. 

He arched a puzzled eyebrow and shook his head. "I still fail to understand the importance placed upon this custom. Is it possible that you are not performing the ritual correctly? Perhaps we could try again?" 

"Again?" she asked with a deep sigh. "Okay, one more time then I'm going back to the lab." 

She attempted another quick peck on his left cheek, but he turned his head causing her to kiss him full on the lips. Startled and aware of their audience, Christine tried to break the kiss but Spock slid his hands down her arms and across her back in an exquisitely tender but secure embrace. 

Spock deepened the kiss and Christine lost all awareness of their surroundings, conscious of nothing but the warmth of his body pressing against her, and the hunger of his lips on hers. 

"Where does the line start?" Kevin Riley asked with a boisterous laugh. 

Christine felt a physical ache as Spock released her. 

"Lieutenant Riley," Spock said. "Are you attempting to challenge me for my woman?" 

Riley shifted about anxiously. "Uh—no, sir… I didn't know she was"- he cast Christine a pleading look- "with you, sir." 

"She is." 

"I'm your woman?" "I believe that is what I said, Christine." 

"I'm 'your woman,' and you- you're, what, my man?" 

"I believe that inference is logical given my previous statement." 

"So you were going to kick Riley's ass to win me?" 

"Do not be ridiculous, Christine. I would have cut him in half with a lirpa. That would be the proper way." 

"So let me see if I've got this right. Me giving you a pair of socks is improper, but the two of us making out like a couple of horny teenagers in front of half the crew and chopping people in half with a lurka is proper? 

" "It's 'lirpa', Christine. A 'lurka' is a tool for tightening the housing on an antimatter containment field subgenerator. It would be far too time consuming to kill someone with a lurka." 

"Okay, not that I don't find all this talk of chopping and bludgeoning fascinating, I think we need to revisit this whole I'm 'your woman' thing. Maybe it's the Deltan Cruisio, but somehow I seemed to have missed something in between the Vulcan sock Nazi and the Vulcan caveman." 

"I don't understand?" 

"Join the club. You haven't shown any interest in me whatsoever for the past six years and now, out of the blue, I'm suddenly 'your woman?'"

"I hold you in the very highest esteem Christine, above all others, above…above my own self. When I heard myself speak those words to you, the ancient words of the ugaya-mnah, it was as if my eyes were finally opened." 

"Ugagya—what?" 

"The ugaya-mnah, it is from before the time of Surak, the pledge of joining." 

"Joining? What?—oh my— you mean like married joining?" 

"That would be the logical course. Vulcans do not believe in premarital sex." 

"Like what, they don't believe it exists?" 

"No, Christine, they do not believe it to be proper to engage in sexual joining without a formal commitment." 

"Well, most humans believe in getting a taste of the milk before buying the cow." 

"I am not without financial resources, Christine. I would be agreeable to purchasing whatever number of cows you would find necessary." 

"Not real cows," she said with a sigh. "It's a sort of, metaphor for—well, how would we know if we're, if our—interests…damn it—sex. What if we aren't, you know sexually compatible? I mean. What if the sex is, well, you know, not very good?" 

Spock leaned closer, his soft lips brushing against her ear. "Christine," he whispered, "Vulcans are touch telepaths with total physical control of every bodily function." 

"Total control?" 

"I would compute the chances of disappointment in the physical act at less than one thousandth of one percent." 

"I like those odds, but I’m not that naïve woman who fell in love with you five years ago, Spock. I’m never going to be a “proper” Vulcan wife, with eyes downcast walking two paces behind you. I won't give my life away. I did that with Roger, I won't do it again. I’ve been in love with you for years, but I don’t really know you, and you don’t know me.

“Understood. But you would be willing take some time for us to know each other?” he asked.

“Yes, I would like that. We could start slow and see where it goes.”

“I find that acceptable. So, we are… I believe the term is dating?

“I guess—so seriously, no sex, none at all?”

“I have told you I am more than willing to purchase the required cows.”

“You know, I’m only half sure you’re kidding. Do not buy any cows, okay?” 

”I shall refrain from cow buying.” He looked over to the young ensign tending the bar and nodded to McCoy who was waiting for his beverage. “I suppose it would be inappropriate were I to reclaim my gift from Ensign Kelliher?”

“Yes, it would be and don’t be cutting him in half with a lurka.”

”Lirpa, Christine, lirpa.”

Whatever, don’t be cutting him or anyone else in half with anything. Look, I hate to run but I really need to get back to work. I’m juggling four experiments in three different labs.” 

Would you like my assistance?

Christine looked over to the bar where the Captain had joined Leonard. “I’ve got it under control and I think Jim will be disappointed if you leave now.”

”Agreed. Perhaps we could have dinner together tomorrow shift?”

That sounds nice. Our first date. Good night, Spock.

As she started to walk away he swept her into his arms and kissed her tenderly.

"Well what in blue blazes is goin' on here?" McCoy called over from the bar.

Spock and Christine pulled apart and stood side by side with their hands folded behind their backs. They looked at each other for a moment then looked at McCoy and said in unison.

"Mistletoe."


End file.
